


Lunch With a Friend

by the_butler



Series: ManMan fics [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Changed rating to reflect last chapter, It’s more hinted at but still there is sexual content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-07 12:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17960312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_butler/pseuds/the_butler
Summary: “Mm-hmm. And how many friends do you think *the* Bruce Wayne regularly take to lunch?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote about Clark and Bruce having lunch in a previous fic (It’s Nice to Know You’re Not Alone in Hell) and thought about doing a seperate fic about it. Still not sure if its in the same story as that or an entirely new one.

He listened to the heartbeat always. Not intently, but it was there, like a background noise. Sometimes he was aware he was doing it, sometimes not. But he always listened. He once asked himself why this specific heartbeat, and not his parents, or his ex-wife, or even important people like presidents. He was in denial for a few weeks, but its never really in his character to be a liar- to other people or himself. He loved the man. Simple as that. And so he made peace with the truth, and carried on with his life. 

Sometimes they had lunch. Outside of when they work together. Just two men, as normal as a billionaire playboy and a mild-mannered reporter as friends could be, having lunch together in either of their respective cities. They were not as frequent as he would have liked, but he was grateful all the same. Their stations in regular life were much too different to make it any more than a few times in between missions in their other life. Oh for sure they had all of the time together in their other life, had most lunches together when possible at the space station even, but it’s different when they’re back in the real world, in their regular life. To be friends, outside of tights and last minute efforts at saving the world from one doomsday plan after the next. That’s something he treasured. Even if one of them is a billionaire playboy who owns half the city of Gotham, and the other a bumbling if good natured shy reporter for the Daily Planet in Metropolis. Yes, they do live in different cities. But between his powers of flight (in stealth, of course) and his friend’s billions, they make it work. 

Sometimes, that thought gets him to thinking what other arrangements they could make work aside from friendship. Sometimes he entertained these thoughts, went on flights of fancy where he and his friend were more than friends, maybe. It will still be the same schedule, probably, but with more phone calls and visits to the manor and meeting the children and staying the night... but other times he quickly thinks of something else. It’s better to remain friends, he’d think. Their friendship is already tenuous as it is without having something like romance bring it to the breaking point. 

He sighed. It seems like nowadays he often sighs. His ex-wife, eagle-eyed as ever, noticed and brought it up. It’s what makes her a great reporter, he thinks, her eye for detail. He wished it wasn’t currently staring him down. 

“Spill it, Smallville.”

“I’m just... a little tired. That’s all.”

She wrinkles her nose, knowing she’s being lied to but unwilling to push the matter. 

“We’re still friends you know.”

This brings a smile to his face. It’s true- they were better friends than husband and wife. 

“For which I am grateful for, you know that.”

“I worry about you.”

He just smiled a little bit more, so his dimples come out, to show her there’s nothing to worry about.

“Well if you’re not going to share whatever it is that’s making you sigh a million times this morning, why don’t you be on your merry way to your lunch. It’s today right? Lunch with Brucie?”

“Ah, you know I don’t like that nickname for him.”

A raised eyebrow and an impish smile.

“And why would it bother you? It’s his nickname, that’s what the press calls him.”

A shrug. He makes a show of clearing out his desk of some papers and shoving it in his messenger bag, moving about to seem busy before heading out for the aforementioned lunch.

“Babe...” she hasn’t called him that in years, but it still rolls off her tongue with ease, “... you can be so transparent sometimes, y’know? Just tell him already. How many ‘friendly lunches’ do you have to sit through before you just go ahead and blurt it out?”

He was sure his ears were pink. She sure does have eagle eyes. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Lo. We’re just friends who go to lunch.”

“Mm-hmm. And how many friends do you think *the* Bruce Wayne regularly take to lunch? How many friends does he accommodate in his billionaire playboy lifestyle?”

“He probably has a lot of lunches with a lot of other people...”

“Nope, just you.”

It’s true, Bruce Wayne didn’t get up earlier than noon for most people.

“Well, it’s not like it’s a dinner date...”

“No but he’s still taking the time out of his busy schedule to get here from Gotham just to take some reporter friend to lunch.”

Silence from him. They do meet in Metropolis more- they only ever meet in Gotham to have lunch whenever work provides him a convenient cover story, which wasn’t that often. Sometimes he stealth flies to Gotham, but he couldn’t do that too much without reports of Superman Flies to Gotham popping up. Besides, Superman has a moratorium on Gotham from the Batman himself. 

“If you’re asking me, I’d say you’re already being wooed but you’re just too shy to notice.”

Lois was already swiveling to face her desk, a triumphant smirk on her face, before Clark could even come up with an answer.

“We are just friends Lo!”

“Sure, sure, just like all the other billionaire-reporter buddies out there.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Have fun!”

He grimaces at the back of Lois’ head before heading out to the elevators. He finds himself alone in one- it was still too early for lunch break after all- he closes his eyes and concentrates on the sound of a regular heartbeat, but his own was far too loud to do so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t suppose princes of Gotham regularly slum it in diners with us hoi polloi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure how many chapters this is going to take, I’ve never really written long form fanfics before and the chapters are generally short, but we’ll see what happens.

“You don’t seem to be enjoying your burger.”

He had ordered a burger. He always ordered a burger- in one way or another, with fries. A solid meat and potatoes guy, that’s him. And why not? He’s from the rural midwest. He grew up on every variation of meat and potatoes- solid, honest food. It’s not as if he had to worry about calories, given his different biology and very fast metabolism. He made a face. So why wasn’t he enjoying this burger? His lunch da... lunch buddy seemed to notice his face.

“Is it that bad? We can send it back.”

“No!” He reached out to stop Bruce from holding up a hand to signal a waiter, and immediately retracted his hand. Bruce gives him a quizzical look but lowers his hand all the same. “It’s fine... I’m just not that hungry.”

“Oh? You’re certainly no Barry Allen, but I’ve never seen you turn down a burger. Much less at your favorite diner.”

They were in his favorite diner- the one with the 50s decoration just a little way away from the Daily Planet office. The servers were nice, the food affordable and good and in large servings, and the whole atmosphere just reminded him of home. They also didn’t make a big to do having one of the richest men in America here for an early lunch, which is always a plus when you’re eating out with one of the richest men in America. Discretion is key. And they even put an extra bacon strip in his bacon mushroom burger, he was a known patron here. But then why? Oh, yes, the whole confusing thoughts put in his head by a certain Lois Lane, that’s why. He picks up a fry and mournfully munches on it- it was a perfect fry. Now the quizzical look on Bruce’s face became one of slight worry.

“I’m sorry, I’m kind of out of it. It’s just...” He tries to form the words by waving a fry around. It didn’t help. His shoulders slumped again and he ate the fry. “Y’know, don’t worry about it. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Oh?” Bruce intones, eyebrow impeccably raised as only a man raised by a proper English butler can, and he goes back to eating his salad. 

Wether he enjoyed the fact that the salad here had bacon bits and ranch dressing, he never really said. It was just what he usually ordered. If it’s burgers for Clark, it’s salads for Bruce. Not everyone had Kryptonian metabolism, Clark deduced. He has to fit into that tight Batman suit every night after all. Oh. Oh no. He can’t be thinking about the batsuit, not now. 

“Well I mean, work and stuff, you know.” He blurts out, as if to derail that dangerous line of thought. “Perry’s been on my case about this story I’ve been working on about the unions, and it’s just I’m having trouble getting all my ducks in a row.” It was true, he had been having trouble getting all his sources to sign off, he thought, justifying his lie. 

“Hm. Then maybe I’m taking too much of your time...” And there was a genuine look of worry on Bruce’s handsome face, that Clark couldn’t help but blurt out protestations.

“No! No. I enjoy these... our lunches. I do! Don’t say that, please...” He scratched his cheek as he looked to his side, a bit embarrassed. “We don’t get to do this often and I value the time we have as friends... y’know? Out in the real world.” Ah, he said friends. But of course, because they are, right, and not what Lois said. A sigh escapes his lips. It’s not that he’s confused about his feelings. He knows he loves Bruce. What he didn’t need was false hopes about maybe Bruce liking him the same way. He closed his eyes for a bit and concentrated on a sound- it was a steady heartbeat. Of course. He opened his eyes to Bruce staring at his face, with something he can’t quite place. 

“Do you... not like hanging out like this?”

Whatever it was, the moment passed. 

“Of course.” And Bruce was back to his regular handsome, perfect setting, which he had no business being, somehow impeccably eating a ranch salad at a 50s diner. The thing when he was staring with those ice blue eyes of his, a look he couldn’t put a name on, it was gone. Clark wished he wasn’t so awkward. He just had to ask a question didn’t he, mr. I can’t handle social tension very well. Oh. But maybe he could do something to maneuver the conversation back. He might as well, just to get it over with. 

“Why do you? I mean, its not really that convenient for you, and you go out of your way to make it convenient for me. I don’t suppose princes of Gotham regularly slum it in diners with us hoi polloi.” 

Bruce stops a hand midway to eating the rest of his salad. He seemed to be seriously considering the question. “Clark, I’m an eccentric rich layabout. If I wanted to, as you say, slum it with my best friend, then I do so. It’s not like anyone will stop me.”

Ah. Best friend. Normally he’d be beaming and needling Bruce over this confession of yes I am your *best* friend, you sexy emotionless man, But right now, Clark was hoping for more. Something more than best friend? Jesus, he doesn’t know, just more. 

“Your short-selling yourself, best friend.” Bruce almost rolled his eyes, and for a moment Clark felt like his old self again- he couldn’t resist. “Your not just some eccentric rich layabout, you also happen to own a conglomerate and head some really important charities.”

“So I do. But I also value our time together. As friends in the real world. Like you said.”

“Yes... yes I did say that.” This. This is it. He may be a clueless fool at times, but he’s always honest. He stops to listen in again for reassurance- Bruce’s heartbeat was... fast? Clark looks up questioningly, and there wasn’t a single emotion to betray it on Bruce’s face. Clark’s own heart jumped a bit. Yes. Here it goes. 

“But. And hear me out. But what if I wanted to be more than friends?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And contrary to what Hal might say, Bruce wasn’t that much of a bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really know how far Metropolis and Gotham are to each other, and where exactly they’re supposed to be. 
> 
> Also switched perspectives from Clark to Bruce.

He didn’t usually relish getting up earlier than noon, given his night time activities, but today was one of those days. Ah yes. Waking up in the morning after a sleepless night guarding Gotham from the cowardly and superstitious criminal lot to drive the some odd hours it takes to commute to Metropolis where he can enjoy a usually sad salad at a cafe or diner or family restaurant with a friend. Hmm. Yes, of course, that descriptor is apt- they are friends. After all, what do you call a man who has saved your life on numerous occasions, gone to countless missions with, even the occasional stake out, and had lunch every other week it seems? A friend. But, his conscience interspersed, what do you call the man you dream of almost every time you go to sleep it seems, lately? Not a friend, his conscience hazards a guess, and it makes him frown. It doesn’t bode well whenever he starts thinking these kinds of thought. 

“Master Bruce, it is time for you to get up if you wish to make it to your lunch date in time.” Came the dry voice of his butler, made even more dry over the intercom. He sighed and rubbed a hadn to his face.

“It’s not a date, Alfred.”

“Of course, begging your pardon sir. Your lunch... appointment.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. He didn’t need this in what to him is early in the morning. 

The drive to Metropolis was uneventful. He had texted with Clark as to where they were meeting (the diner, the one Clark likes so much because it reminded him of home), and there was fortunately a Wayne-owned hotel nearby. He had already arranged, or at least Alfred did, to have access to a private entrance gate at some of his hotels in Metropolis, and this was one of them thankfully. This one also had that manager who wasn’t obsequious at all when arranging for his private car that takes him to the many fine establishments Clark decides on having lunch at, where there were no valet parking whatsoever. He arrived at a quarter past nine, which was a bit early. Perhaps an early lunch at ten thirty would be a good idea to avoid crowds? He texts Clark while sipping black coffee at the hotel lobby cafe, seating at a secluded enough spot. There weren’t oglers, thankfully, and he enjoyed his coffee in peace. Clark replies instantly, to which Bruce could only deduce that it must be a slow news day. At this time of hour his friend would usually already be submerged in work: typing out a story or calling up sources or whatever else it is good journalists do. 

‘Arrived early at hotel. Lunch at 10:30?’  
‘Sure, that works. See you later :)’

Bruce couldn’t help but smile a little at the old school smiley face emoji at the end of Clark’s text. Who could believe a near god-like being of pure grade A Kansas corn-fed beef could be so dorky. But that’s what makes Clark the man he is, Bruce supposes. How else are you supposed to turn out when raised by the Kents, two of the truly good people he knows, in midwest America? Like straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting, that guy. Even being divorced failed to put some angst in the man, if anything him and Lois were even better friends afterwards according to Clark. Ah and there’s the rub isn’t there. The crux of the problem. Who would want to taint that wholesomeness? A bastard, that’s who. And contrary to what Hal might say, Bruce wasn’t that much of a bastard. And it’s true- even his Brucie persona got a little more subdued these days. That made for a happier Alfred, or at least Bruce thinks it does, after all these years Alfred is still a hard read for him most days. He’s been keeping out of the tabloids at least, especially after they deemed him “settled down”, what with the adopting orphans and opening charities for orphans and other orphan-related activities. It’s what lets him afford some peace and quiet to go on lunches with a... friend. 

A friend who might be asking him to be more than friends. In the middle of lunch in a goddamned 50s diner. Bruce blinked. 

“I’m sorry?”

Clark’s face was increasingly becoming an interesting shade of pink, but he soldiers on, albeit in a stage whisper. “I said, what if I wanted us to be more than friends.”

“No I heard you the first time.”

“Then why... ugh that’s not the point. I mean. So. So what do you think?”

“I...” for a moment, Bruce was at a loss for words. His heart was like a jackhammer. “I... well. I already said that I consider you my best friend.”

Clark throws himself back and looks at the ceiling for a bit. “Bruce, that’s not what I meant.” He said, as if to the ceiling. He looks back at Bruce, looking a bit wounded. “You know what I meant. I know you know what I meant.”

With a calm that betrayed his inner turmoil, Bruce took a napkin, wiped his mouth, balled it and threw it in with the remains of his salad. Summoning his inner Brucie he manages to give a slight haughty look as he folds his arms, rests them on the table and leans forward. “Then why don’t you say what it is that you know that I know that you meant, just so we’re both on the same page.”

Clark shied back a bit, and Bruce relished seeing the most powerful being on earth be a little intimidated by him, even if it was because of something so embarrassing. But this is Clark. Superman. He soldiers on some more. 

“I meant like... like boyfriends. Or lovers...or whatever you want to call it.”

Now it was Bruce that was taken aback. The fool actually gone and said the words. Even used ‘lovers’ for crying out loud. But this is Clark, of course he would use that word. Clark looks to him a bit sheepishly. 

“Well... what do you think?”

Well damn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You weren’t really clear about it when you asked me out the first time.”

“And how, exactly, do we go about being... ” And here Bruce made a face, he didn’t like the word boyfriend much as neither men were boys, but Clark’s alternative of lovers seemed much too intimate, “... erm, partners?”

Clark perked up. Ah so Bruce wasn’t that averse to the idea, or at least to discussing the idea of them being together. Together together, Clark clarified in his head. 

“Well, we could go on dates. Aaand I’ve already been told these lunches we keep having are sorta dates already.”

Bruce frowned. “And who told you that.”

“Lo did.”

“I bet.” Bruce grumbled under his breath as he scanned the diner- still almost empty save for an uninterested old man at the counter. He cleared his throat.

“You know I have super-hearing.” Clark said, almost offended. Bruce only replied with one impeccably raised brow. “Anyway, so are these dates?”

“If you want them to be.”

“O...okay.” It was foolish of him to think this would be a breeze, this is Bruce after all. It’d be more like pulling teeth. “Well maybe we could go on more varied dates. Somewhere nice and more appropriate.”

Bruce cocked his head to one side and gave Clark an almost impish smile that made the latter’s blush come creeping back. “You choose the restaurants we go to, remember?”

“Well I didn’t know these were dates!” He definitely was blushing, but now a bit because of embarrassment. Clark wasn’t counting on Bruce to needle him, he was, well, what was he counting on? It wasn’t as if the man would just suddenly go down on one knee and profess undying love, and God knows he would’ve gone out the diner and flew straight to the sun if that actually occurred. Was there a manual to these kind of things that he just didn’t get to read back in school? What would that highly specific manual be called anyway, ‘101 Ways To Navigate Being Together Together With Your Best Friend’? ‘Becoming Boyfriends Without Spontaneously Combusting Out Of Sheer Embarrassment In a Diner of Your Choosing’? He decided to pass the blame around to cover for his own awkwardness, “You weren’t really clear about it when you asked me out the first time.”

Ah yes, Bruce had been the one to ask him out the first time. He continued, gaining a bit of confidence, “and if I recall correctly, you said it was for building rapport.” He did recall correctly, he has an excellent memory, and in hindsight that was such a poor excuse for an invite. “I didn’t think anything about it because it sounded like something you would say, you know, in our other field of work.”

“You didn’t think anything about it because you were too busy being in love with Lois.”

Clark’s jaw almost dropped. Bruce, on the other hand, looked calm, the impish smile gone. 

“Well... that was years ago. And anyway me and Lo are just friends now.”

Bruce shrugged. “So then when I first asked you to lunch, I really did mean to just build rapport. Even the blind knew you were in love with Lois. I wasn’t going to insert myself into the middle, I’m not that much of a bastard.”

“Oh.” Clark calmed down. “So what changed?”

“I could ask the same to you.”

And wasn’t that a good question, Clark thought. What had changed? The situation with Lois- that’s a given. But... he wouldn’t be able to say, it just happened. One day, he just figured out he was in love with his best friend. 

“I don’t know. It just... I know it’s corny but I just knew.”

Bruce gave him what can only be called a look. 

“Seriously!” Clark protested. “Okay. Hm. All right. I’m going to say something but I need you to be cool about it.”

“I feel like I shouldn’t be ‘cool’ about whatever you’re going to say.”

“Just, just hear me out, okay?”

A beat, as this was considered. Then Bruce nodded. 

“Okay. Lately, I could only hear your heartbeat.”

Another beat. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Okay okay I know it sounds kinda creepy but I promise you its not!” Well, he thought, it kind of is. But let’s not dwell on that right now. “It used to be just to check if you were still alive! Well sometimes you get reclusive and none of us would know how to reach you to check on you and so one day I just... listened. And it was fine. You were fine. But then it became sort of a habit, I mean only in fights, right. And then... well like I said, it just sort of happened. And now, it’s always there.”

Bruce looked calm, but Clark knew it was the kind of calm before a storm. 

“Do you know how invasive that is.”

“I... yes.”

“I didn’t ask you to monitor me. I am an adult capable of handling myself.”

“Yes, I know...”

“Are you doing it right now?”

“No!”

Bruce looked skeptical. Clark decided to go for broke. 

“Because I can’t hear yours over the sound of my own.”

Silence, and then the tapping of fingers. Bruce was tapping his fingers on the table as he internally debated. Clark felt as if its his own heartbeat being tattooed on the table. Icy blue eyes bore into his own, while the tap tap tap continued. And then it stopped. Clark didn’t know he’d been holding his breath until he started breathing again. 

“It stops right now.”

And Clark’s heart sank.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not everyday I’m ‘negotiating’ a relationship with my best friend, cut me some slack here.”

The pause seemed like eternity. Bruce scanned the diner again, adjusted his seating position and cleared his throat, seemingly unaware of Clark just there, dejection slowly setting in.

“However.”

Clark stilled- there’s a ‘however’? He cautiously looked up from his long forgotten meal. Bruce was still there before him, still handsome as ever, even when looking a bit peeved, as if he regrets what he’s about to say. 

“I understand some people would say the same about me.”

“Wuh?” Clark answered stupidly. Bruce’s peeved look was now replaced with a glare.

“About... the spying.”

“Bruce, I’m telling you I wasn’t doing it to spy on you...” He started, with hope once again rising in his chest, but he was cut off with a raised hand. 

“Nevertheless.”

A however and a nevertheless? Now he doesn’t know how to feel about this already confusing conversation. Like a rollercoaster, this thing. Any more emotional turn and he’s going to get physical whiplash, Clark mused. 

“My... wards would be disappointed to hear me lobby such accusations. You understand. Glass houses, and whatnot. So. I did ask you to stop. But I... trust you enough to know when to use it without me having to ask.”

Clark started to smile. Bruce’s glare came back. 

“I *trust* you wouldn’t be using it for non-emergency purposes.”

“Oh... oh! Of course! You...” Clark straightened up and tried to look his serious best. “You have my word.”

Bruce gave him a look that somehow suggested he didn’t entirely believe him but will accept it all the same. He relaxed a bit, and leaned back into the booth seat. 

“And so, back to our... negotiations.”

“Wh... what negotiations?”

“About...” Bruce made a circular hand gesture. “...this. Us. What we were talking about.”

Clark bit back a laugh. Bruce could be so dorky sometimes. Oh he’s cool and suave but some things he just... like with gadgets. And emotions. 

“Bruce... this isn’t business.”

A raised eyebrow in lieu of a sassy ‘I know that’ retort. Clark put a hand to his mouth to cover the smile threatening to become a laugh. 

“Okay, so what else do you want to ‘negotiate’ in our... relationship.”

“Very well. The sex, for one.”

It was a good thing Clark had a hand to his mouth already so it obscured his very definitely surprised look. Both eyebrows shot up. 

“Hn.” Bruce, on his part, looked unimpressed. “It’s not just polite dates you know.”

“Ye-es. I know it’s not just dates. I know... sex.”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to hide a laugh. 

“I sure hope so.”

He almost openly laughed at Clark’s answering embarrassed glare. The man tried, oh he did, but glares were Bruce’s specialty, and the one on Clark’s face only made him look endearing. For a man already divorced, he sure did act the virgin. 

“That’s not the reason for the divorce, is it?” 

“No!” Clark erupted with indignation. “Why would you say... of course not! I’m just... this is different!”

Bruce rested his chin on his hand and smirked. 

“Oh ha-ha laugh it up at my expense why don’t you. I was just surprised, that’s all. It’s not everyday I’m ‘negotiating’ a relationship with my best friend, cut me some slack here.”

“You mean you’ve never even thought of it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Us. Sexually.”

“Jesus, Bruce.” Clark could feel his throat dry up, and he swallowed. Bruce watched his adam’s apple bob up and down with a lazy interest, eyes hooded and face still propped by his hand. And didn’t that just do something to Clark. 

“Because I have. I do.”

Oh boy. Clark was dimly aware of the bell on the diner door sounding- no new sounds so the only other patron must have just left. And then... and then he couldn’t stop himself, was just aware he was doing it halfway into it, he had half stood and reached over and grabbed Bruce by the shirt and pulled... and he was kissing him. Sloppy and awkward but oh so glorious. It took a moment, and Bruce was kissing him back. 

And then just as fast as it happened, it was over. They sat in front of each other, vaguely panting, Bruce recovering first from the glazed expression they both had. Without saying a word Bruce laid down several dollar bills on the table (for sure tipping generously) and already texting the driver as he exited the booth. Clark’s head finally rebooted in time to get up and follow and both men wordlessly got in the private car that arrived in a few silent minutes. The silence continued during the drive to the hotel, the agonizing elevator ride, and only ended when they arrived at the penthouse room Alfred always books in advance for Bruce. 

Later, with their clothes discarded haphazardly throughout the room and Clark found out that the fearsome Batman was in fact somewhat of a cuddler, they found their words again.

“So... I guess that answered your question.”

“Hn.”

“Are we still going to continue negotiating or...?”

Bruce moved to get up, much to Clark’s disappointment. Sitting up, he leaned back and closed his eyes. 

“No one gets to know for a few months... weeks. And then Diana and Alfred. Maybe the league, it depends.”

“Lois?”

A look of irritation flashed by. “If you must.”

“Hey.” Clark wound an arm around Bruce’s midsection and looked up for maximum puppy dog eyes, just in time for Bruce to open his eyes and look down. “She likes you, you know.” 

“Hn.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On how well you do this round.” And Bruce was kissing him, and he was laughing into the kiss. The cheeky bastard. Although, of course, if he was going to be completely honest about it, so was he. He did promise to never listen to Bruce’s heartbeat if it wasn’t an emergency buuut he also did forget to define what exactly is an emergency. 

Then later, much later than he had any business of being, Clark gets back to the office. It was much busier than when he left, and when Lois saw him she had a knowing look on her face and was shaking her head. Their boss had been talking to her and followed her look. Perry turned around and bellowed at him. 

“And where the hell have you been, Kent?”

Clark returned Lois’ look with one of his own, one that’s full of satisfaction.

“Oh, I was just out on lunch with a friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That’s it. I hope you enjoyed reading!


End file.
